For You, Clove
by swimmergirl103
Summary: Mockingjay and Catching Fire never happen. She always said it. I never knew she meant it. Now she's dead. I have to live up to her expectation. I have to do somthing that's certainly dangerous. That's always challenging. I have to enter the Hunger Games. Sequel to Cato and Clove, Avery's afterstory. Rated T for violence. It's the Hunger Games, what do you expect?


_Hey it's me! Just a little one-shot sequel to a little story known as Cato and Clove. It is written on behalf of a request by number123! So, I hope I don't let ya down!_

My Life for Yours

Grief. Sadness. Unbelief.

It was a dream. Just a very bad dream and I will wake up any second, just don't let it be real!

But the taste of truth was bitter on the tongue of Avery Meadows.

Eyes turned towards me. My jaw was clenched and my eyes were wide. I was so overwhelmed with grief that my body wasn't responding to my wishes. I stood there with tears streaming down my face watching Cato do the same thing.

_No tears, the Meadow's family don't cry do they?_

I recalled some of the last words Clove ever said to me. I wasn't going to let her down. I wiped my face free of tears and hardened my heart.

_Sharpen your senses. Evaluate the enemy. Don't ever let your guard down._

Clove used to give me tips all the time. They came back to haunt me with her voice and educate me with the advice. Nothing could daunt me. Nothing could break me. Or so I thought.

A week later the mayor declared the year's Hunger games over. Katniss killed Cato and tricked the gamemakers. Two winners. Two victors. Two crowns.

….

(Setting: At school a month later, Mockingjay and Catching Fire never happen.)

Anger clouded my vision. I couldn't see anything past the boy in front of me.

_Never lose your temper and act in a blind rage; that will only get you killed. Be patient and wait until the right time to act. Be smart. Smarter than your enemy._

The advice hit me with an impact. I took a breath and waited. The boy-Dawson- narrowed his eyes and ran full steam at me. The kids had formed a circle around us, chanting fight and watching like a pack of wild, bloodthirsty dogs. Their eyes sparkled maliciously and teachers stood by closely, to break up the fight if it got too out of hand. Fights were started and usually ended quickly because there was a simple rule-only the strongest survive, and if you're weaker, you lose. The teachers didn't break the fight up because the winner could possibly be sent to training school to be trained for the Hunger Games.

Dawson kept running, blind rage controlling him.

_Not me. For you Clove._

At the last second, I ducked under Dawson and picked him up by the legs, succeeding in flipping over onto his back. I got onto his chest, pressing my knee right below the middle of his pectoral muscles, keeping him down while driving my fist into his face repeatedly, breaking his nose, splitting his lip, chipping his teeth. I only stopped when the teachers pulled me off of him. I glared at him with hate.

"Nobody," I snarled, "talks about my sister that way. Especially not pathetic, lowlife, sorry excuses for human beings of the likes of you." I took one more contemptuous glance of disgust at the whimpering form of a boy in front of me and stalked away to once again recede into the cold recesses of my innermost memories of my now dead sister.

_Dead. Deceased. No longer living._

Words had been haunting me day and night without end, driving me to the peak of insanity. They dwelled, intermingling with the memories of my sister so that if I saw the memories, I heard the words too. They weren't spoken; they were chanted mentally by the part of my brain that had accepted the truth and all the words that came with it. It wasn't enough for them to just float perpetually in my brain; they seared their way across it again and again, burning their image, their meaning, their truth into it. Branding it with the pain and the grief and the hurt that I felt.

I thought nothing could break me. I thought nothing could daunt me. I was wrong. There was one thing that could. That one thing-or really person-was Clove.

…_._

(Setting: 1 week later at school)

"Avery Meadows, please come to the main office immediately." I frowned but scraped my chair back, heading out the door. I swept the dark raven hair from the top my eyes and started toward the main office.

I got there about a minute later and there was a man with slicked back blond hair and a black suit on. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet, as if he couldn't wait to get out of the building. His roaming eyes settled on me and walked briskly toward me.

"Avery Meadows, right?"

"Yes sir."

"I've heard rumors about you Avery. Some good and some bad."

"What rumors sir?"

"I've heard rumors about you style of fighting. I've heard you are ruthless, vicious, and unmerciful when you fight. Let me introduce myself. I'm Marvin Greene; I run the training center that prepares young people to fight in the Hunger Games."

_The Hunger Games. The Killing Games. The Lets-Make-Children-Fight-to-the-Death-for-our-Entertainment-and-Make-Them-Into-Murderers Games._

I stared at him with a completely passive face for what seemed like an eternity. I barely let any emotion surface far enough to my face now. I hardened my heart and emotions were controllable, so I controlled them.

"And?" I said in a dead voice, even though my head was screaming with memories of Clove.

"And we want you to join us. We evaluated your skills and strategies and they compare quiet accurately to someone who had been in there just a short while ago. Do you have any idea who it might have been?"

I looked at my shoes, knowing exactly who it was. It was my best friend. My protector. My sister.

"Clove." I softly whispered the name so it was barely audible.

"What was that?" Marvin said, knowing it was causing me pain. This was a test. If I couldn't forget the past, couldn't be strong in every situation, I wasn't fit to be in the Games.

"Clove, sir." I said it confidently, not betraying any of the emotion making my knees weak and wobbly. Pain and remembrance. Like rubbing salt into a wound, ripping open a scar and making a healing wound fresh.

Marvin looked satisfied with the results that I had given him. "Correct. I have presumed that she was your sister, are my presumptions correct?"

"Yes, sir. She was my sister." I wanted to say so many other things.

_Sister. Protector. Best friend. Human Being._

"So what do you say?" Marvin said. I realized I must have spaced out for a second.

"Sorry sir, could you repeat the question?" The man looked annoyed, like he didn't like repeating himself.

"I said would you join us at our school?"

I pondered this for a split second. But deep in my heart, I already knew the answer.

"Yes." I had to make Clove proud. I had to avenge her.

Marvin again looked satisfied with the results. "Good. You can go collect your things and come with me." I nodded and gulped.

I began slowly walking toward my classroom. I got to the door and rested my hand on the door knob. I took a deep breath, collected myself, and entered.

The class looked up from the history test they were taking and I could feel their eyes on me as I walked to my seat and collected my things. I packed them in the sack I carried my books in and went to the teacher's-Mrs. Malagony-desk.

She looked up from what she was doing. "I-" That's as far as I got before she stopped me.

"I know. I was informed this morning. Good luck." She smiled at me, and it was a real smile with what looked like sympathy. Then I remembered her son had died in the Hunger Games 4 years ago. Richan was his name if I remember correctly.

"Thank you." With that I left.

…

(A/N-Since Catching Fire and Mockingjay never happen, this is how I think the Hunger Games would have ended.)

"_Two tributes left, Finnick Odair and Katniss Everdeen. This will be an interesting fight!"_

"_I don't know Ceasar, Katniss has really given up since Peeta's death."_

(A/N-Gale, Peeta, and Katniss are all buttheads, so I'm Team Finnick!)

"_You're right Claudius, but remember she has her sister, her mom, ad her best friend at home waiting, she might fight."_

"_Oh! The tributes approach each other."_

"_What's this? It looks like they're talking!"_

"_I hope they don't pull another stunt like last year. That could have been bad had Haymitch not convinced President Snow it was a stunt to make this year's Games more exciting."_

"_Wait, they-they're surrendering to each other! They are refusing to fight! It looks like another stunt has been established!"_

….…

I watched along with the other trainees the 75th Hunger Games end in yet another tie. Two victors. Two crowns. Two winners.

"All right! Back to training!" shouted our instructor Corpulous.

I went back with Threna to the knife station. I tried to pick up Clove's skill, but so far, it hadn't come.

I threw a knife and it hi Threna's knife and made them both go outside the target. I heard Threna give a sigh and went to pick up her knife. She came back and We both tried again.

I let her throw her knife first. She came back and it was my turn.

I swallowed and threw my knife as hard as I could, and things just got worse from there.

I hit the target, but the knife handle had a rubber coating on the end. The rubber hit the target and the knife came bouncing back. It flew at lightning speed toward Threna and had it not been for her quick reflexes, the knife would have been impaled in her head.

This set her off.

"I'VE HAD IT!" she screamed as she rounded on him. "FIRST YOU INTERFERE WITH MY TRAINING AND THEN YOU TRY TO KILL ME!" She had drawn the attention of everyone. "YOU-YOU'RE TERRIBLE AT EVERYTHING! YOU HAVE NO TALENTS AND YOU'RE USELESS! EVER SINCE YOU CAME HERE, ALL YOU'VE DONE IS MADE THE CHANCES OF ALL OF US GETTING KILLED!"

_Never ever let yourself be humiliated or insulted. If you are, don't take it. No matter who's around, get them. Destroy them._

Even though I was fourteen and Threna was seventeen and about 5 inches taller than him, I ran and swept her feet from under her. No one was expecting me to. But Threna had been training for five years and was much more fit than I was.

Within a minute, the roles switched and I was on the bottom with Threna on top punching me with wrecking ball force. Each time she hit me, it was like I was being submerged in a tank of acid. My face hurt like it had been stampeded by a thousand bulls. Then, as suddenly as it had happened, it stopped. I squinted my badly bruised eyes open a tiny bit to see Threna with her eyes swathed in hate and her arms and legs flailing to get out of the iron grip of a bigger tan guy. I felt myself being lifted and carried to who knows where and then blackness took over my vision.

….…

I woke up in a grey room. I was lying on a bed and I didn't feel anything. I patted my face and sure enough, there weren't any wounds.

I laid there, trying to make sense of everything. Then I heard her.

"So, training already?"

I sat up and turned my head and there she was, sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, tossing an apple up in the air and catching it again.

"Cl-Clove?" My voice cracked with emotion.

"Hello my little soldier." She brushed a strand of dark hair out of her face and studied me intently with her equally dark eyes.

"Clove!" I got up and ran to her. She opened her arms and I crashed into them.

"Clove." I whispered, tears leaking out of my eyes.

"Shh. I'm here." She stroked my hair and led me to the bed to sit down.

When we were both seated, she started talking.

"Avery, why?" she had a sad look in her eyes. Almost a disappointed look.

"Why what?"

"Why do you constantly get yourself caught up in trouble?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why are you training for the Hunger Games? You know what happened to me."

Only then did it occur to me that she had died.

"How-how are you here?"

She smiled remorsefully. "That's for you to figure out. Now, tell me why."

"I-I wanted to avenge you. To redeem you." I looked shamefully at my shoes. I felt her hand on my shoulder. Her warm, alive, undead, human hand.

"Avery, I'm already redeemed."

"How?" I looked up confused. She smiled with so much sadness.

"Something else I can't answer you. I have to go Avery. Don't forget."

Her voice was getting farther and farther away.

"No! Clove, don't go!" I caught her hand but already it was dissipating into smoke.

I let the tears fall freely. I could only do it a few seconds because the next instant, my vision was flooded with light.

I blinked a few times and felt a cold cloth being pressed to my forehead, eyes, mouth, nose. For a few seconds, I thought it was Clove.

"Clove?" I asked hopefully but weakly.

"No." A deep voice pierced my ears.

I slowly tried to sit up and strong arms helped me. A glass was lifted to my lips and I drank the cool water.

"Who are you? Where am I?"

"My name is Jeshlan. You're in the training center infirmary. You've been out in a coma for the past week. I'm surprised you woke up that soon with getting a couple of punches that hard from Threna. You might be alive, but you look horrible. Here." He handed me a piece of glass. I looked into it but it wasn't my reflection staring back.

The face in the mirror was one with so many bruises his face looked purple and blue and black. Two crusted eyes and cracked, split, and scabbed lips. A nose so swollen it took up half of his face.

Then I realized. That monster looking back was me.

_Monster. Killer. Beast._

If I went into the Hunger Games, I wouldn't become a monster just on the outside. I'd become one on the inside too.

….…

I had to stay in the infirmary for another week and in that time, I learned a lot about Jeshlan. I learned that he was the one that lifted Threna off of me and that he'd been issued to care for me. I also learned that he'd been one of Cato's friends.

When my week in the infirmary was over, I went back to training, except I stayed clear of Threna. I learned I was good at something though. I had quick reflexes so my trainer suggested swords. I tried the station out and learned I was actually pretty decent at swords.

I progressed in my sword training over the next few weeks. My trainers said I had improved greatly and soon I was the best at sword fighting. My small, scraggly form helped me with my agility and I built some arm muscles so I had muscled arms but a small body. I was content but they weren't. They wanted to get rid of the smallness and get me to be tall and muscular, but I wouldn't do it.

They said I was the second best at swords ever. The first was Cato.

_Cato. Clove. Dead._

Words still haunted me. They did and always will. They haunted me to the Reaping Day and after.

The Reaping. It finally came.

Again, that moment of extreme suspense stole everyone's breath and made everyone's knees weak.

Jabrion Tencil stuck his hand in the bowl.

He pulled out a slip.

"Narcy Wickens!"

Threna volunteers.

He puts his hand into the next bowl.

He pulls out a slip.

"Ronny Santos!"

"I volunteer!"

….

_Okay peeps,_

_I've decided to make this a two-shot, so if you want, watch for the second and final chapter of this story! BTW, sorry for the cliff-hanger, but even I don't know who volunteers, or do I? (Evil smile)_

_Grace be with you,_

_Swimmergirl103_


End file.
